IlIBHARY OF CONGRESS.! 

I^S&Hf— — ; — t 

! UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 



DREAMINGS 



or THE 



WAKING HEART 



WITH OTHER POEMS. 



REV JOEL SWARTZ, D. D. 






HARIII8BUIIG, PA. 

W. p. e^WATlTZ & BRO., PKINTEE8. 

1877. 






Enterpa according to Act of Congress, in Ihe year 1877, by 




JOEL SWAHTZ, 




in tha Office of the Librarian of Congres?, at Washington, D. C. 






DEDICATION. 

To her, who always seeks to share 

Each load of toil or pam I bear; 

WTio never fails my heart to cheer, 

When, sad and faint, I struggle on, 

Or when my work is nobly done. 

To say, "Well done — Gcd bless you, dear 

To her, whose smile is my best praise, 

I dedicate these humble lays: 

Some thouglits and themes in "Love at Home, 

Were liinted by her for my pen. 

And as I give them back again, 

I simply send them whence they've come. 



PKOLOGUE. 

My lledgeling muse seeks not to soar 

Where gifted bsirds have flown before; 

It aims not at the Milky-way, 

Or flight "above^the iEonian Mount;' 

But hajDpy shall itself account, 

If, when it quits its trembling stay, 

It fiiil not of the nearest spray. 



THE 



^^ 



.?5 '^^^ i^//?^^ 




EAMIHllS OF i^HS W A K • N f? E A R 



DREAMINdS OF THE WAKINd HEART. 

" / sfrt'/>, hilt nil/ Jx'arf urih'fJi.'^ Soixj of Sofonion; 5; 2. 
— <,'ie<!*:X;i^v^<^^ 

Dream-land liew inward from tlie beaten shore 
Of this our coarse and sensuous earthly life, 
And touches on a vague and mystic realm. 
Where meet ui constant, shifting, spectral play, 
The shadows of these gross, material forms, 
And dawnings of the life that is to l^e. 
What though our dreams seem but a fancy play — 
The shreds and renniants of our waking thoughts, 
Which unsupported by the waking will, 
Drop helpless on our sleep-enchanted realm, 



DREAl\nNGS OF THE WAKES'G HEART. 

And break into n thousand shapes grotesque, 
And smk away in some lethean stream, 
Or tioat in shadows to the waking- morn; 
Yet are these very shadows cast by hght, 
As smi-beams cast in cameras dark 
True photographs of objects far away. 
How, when this coarse, material frame of ours 
Drops wearied, senseless in the swoon of sleep, 
Does this uni'esting, tireless self of thought 
Take wings and sport itself on land and sea, — 
Plunge deep in earth and traverse sunless caves, 
Or mount the upper air and hide in clouds, 
Or climb, with easy wing, the Milky way, 
Leave tardy sun-beams lingering in the rear. 
And back return, like Noah's wandering dove, 
But not like that, of weary, drooping wing. 
But fresh with strength and rested by its Higlit, 
To rouse, with gentle tappings of its wing 
Against the windows of the sleeping sense, 
Its dull companion from the rest of sleep. 
O what a fearful power it is to dream! 
How does the soul attest itself in sleej)! 



DEEAMINGS OF THE WxVKING HEART. 

How oft alont^' this dreaiii-enclianted land, 

Come woiiderous visions of the yet to be! 

The unborn Future often wanders here; 

As if the very pre- existent souls 

Of great events — sometimes long after born — 

Came Hitting through this embryonic realm 

Where holy seers and strangely dreaming bards 

Have often seen it grandly walking fortli 

In visions of the night, towards earth and time. 

Were those mere fancies of the shepherds lad, 

AVho, as he lav upon the grassy slope. 

And slept beneath his southern skv. 

Lulled into dreams by softly tinkling l^ells, 

While moon-beams nestled in his flowing hair. 

Beheld the sun, the moon, eleven stars, 

Dance in a bright, celestial diadem, 

As if they burned to rest upon his hrowV 

No, they were dreamings of a Avaking heart. 

They were the ghosts of honors yet unborn, 

Which came to haunt him in his dreams. 

They were the lamps upon his dream-land sky, 

Where slumbering virgins mid-night vigils kept, 



DEEAMINGS OF THE WAKING HEART. 

Waiting the herald ciy of coming- years, 

To rise' and trim their lamps, and meet their king, 

And gii'd the royal shepherd with their Hame. 

What were those nodding, well tilled sheaves of corn, 

But first-fruits, sickled in the land of dreams — 

A mystic pledge of those abundant years 

Which filled with plenty all the land of Nile? 

And were those only dreams which Jacob saw, 

As from his stony couch, against the sky, 

A glorious ladder leaned, where angels clomb? 

That other dreamer of the waking heart — 

Daniel, whose dreams were pulsed with sobs, 

Whose patriotic prayers were steeped in mid-night tears, 

Saw flitting through his dream-land sky. 

As in auroral splendor, " Shining ones" 

Of heavenly glory and immoi'tal mould. 

And over all, the long expected Prince, 

The veiy Messiah — Ancient of days. 

And only less than these great bards and seers — 

The tinker's son of Bedford Jail, Bunyan, 

Dreamed dreams no mortal ever dreamed before. 

What tho' his dreams were but a waking trance, 

12 



DREAMINGS OF THE WAKING HEART. 

Like Baalim's visions, seen with open eyes; 
Yet were thej^ dreainings of a waking heart. 
'Tis said, all prophets, poets, bards and seers, 
See rather w^th the heart than with the eye. 
Their 's, ''The vision and faculty divine," 
Which catch the subtle, evanescent forms 
Of Beaut}', trace the hidden lines of Truth; 
The}' feel the virgin touch of Purity, 
And hear the latent notes of Harmony. 
Thus, Angelo imprisoned angels saw 
In unhewn marble blocks and shapeless stones. 
And as his hand the sculptor's chisel seized, 
And struck with measured force, the ai-tist's blow. 
He failed not to perceive that finest line 
Which lies between the angel's fettered limbs, 
And those rude gyves of stone that on them lay; 
So, while he smote the fetters from its form, 
He wounded not a feature or a line. 
The painter on his untouched canvas sees, 
A thousand trooping shapes of beauty play. 
Beethoven heard the organ's mighty tones 
In roUing thunder and the rushing storm. 



DREAMINGS OF THE WAKING HEART. 

And nought so thrilled his great, majestic soul, 
As when some strong and furious equinox 
AVould sweep the key-board of the wooded hills, 
Or tramp the foaming pedals of the sea. 
What soul is there so uniformly dull? 
"W^iat heart so lumj^ish and so steeped in sleep, 
As not sometimes to have a glorious dream V 
Who has not had, at least in youthful dreams, 
Some grand ideals of a better life? 
Who has not seen essential Beauty's form, 
Or heard the music which the angels smg? 
Who has not seen Endeavor grandly chmb 
The abi-upt steeps and rugged cliffs to Fame? 
Or Enterprise, with ample honors crowned? 
Or Philanthropy, pleading for the poor? 
Who has not seen the restful face of Faith, 
In darkest storms still clinging to the cross? 
Or Hope, reposing on an anchor sure, 
AVitli telescope descrying worlds afar? 
Or Charity, with down-cast looks of love. 
Enfolding childhood in her sheltering arms? 
Who has not seen, in visions of the night, 

14 



DEEAMINGS OF THE WAKING HEART. 

Some Macedonian phantom bowed in prayer, 

As if it pleaded with his inmost soul, 

To come and help, while Dut}^ by it stood, 

And with a pointing finger, showed the way? 

O, if the Genius of our better life 

Has found us slumbering in the chains of sense. 

Like Peter bound in Herod's cruel jail. 

And smitten us with some great, high-born thought. 

And bid us rise and follow where it led, 

Have not our dreaming, half bewildered hearts, 

New paths of duty and of glory seen? 

How rapturous were the visions of the soul! 

'Twas then the heart, elated and inspired, 

Formed high resolves and purposes t' achieve. 

The open future like a ladder seemed, 

^\liereon our guardian angels went^and came 

And ever beckoned us with snowy hands 

To rise and climb the glorious path they trod. 

And no one ever heeds this upward call, 

And tries to follow where his angel leads. 

But, if his hand groAV feeble in its clasp. 

And trembles as it holds the ladder's round, 

15 



A DREAM AND ITS INTERPRETATION. 

Shall feel upon his own a hand imposed, 
Imparting strength and making sure his clasp. 
Then let us be assui-ed that whilst our road 
Lies upward over many a nigged step, — 
Our every stej) shall open towards a fairer sky, 
And spread an ampler prospect at our feet ; — 
That on the ever rising, brightening hills 
Our guards and guides shall never lose their way 
In those pure heights, beyond the fogs of scaise 
Beyond the fondest dreaiiiings of the heart, 
The visions of the night shall end in day. 
And dreams grow solid as eternal truth. 



A DKEAM AND ITS INTERPRETATION. 

TO MISS L. A. K. 

"I'll write in the Album, my day's work is done, 
My friends have retired and left me alone;" 
So said I last night — the clock was at ten; 
I sank in my chair and took up my pen. 
But puzzled my brain just how to begin. 

16 



A DEEAM AND ITS INTERPRETATION. 

I tliouglit till I sank in a slumberous dream, 
And fancied I ferried a swift-flowino- stream; 
Its margin was fringed with fi'uitage and tlowers, 
And up the long slopes ran beautiful bowers, 
Still dripping with warm and plentiful showers. 

Away from the stream broad avenues lav, 
And hid in bright hills that rolled far away; 
Along them I wandered, admiring each scene 
CI' Howlers, and fountains, and foliage green — 
Of tall forest trees with lawns in between. 

Wherever I wandered, however I strayed. 
In glen or on hill, in forest or glade, 
I met at each turn some sweet smiling face 
Of fairy, or w^ood-njanph ; of dryad, or grace, 
With arms inter-twined, or locked in embrace. 

I wandered in dream if fhif^ were a dream; 
Perhaps the swift river is Jordan's cold stream. 
This garden of beauty, this sunshine, these showers, 
This fragrance, these bright and l)eautiful bowers. 
Are Eden's — the home of the saints and of oui's. 

17 



A DREAM AND ITS INTERPRETATION. 

In laughter and tears some sentence I s23oke: 

It startled my mind I quickly awoke; 

The beU of the clock was ringing at ten, 

As when I first nodded, I was sitting still then, 

"With my hand on the book and the ink in my j^en. 

pardon, Miss Lou, if stupid I seem — 
AVhen sitting to write I sank in a dream: 
My dream, since now I am fu% awake. 
Perhaps this meaning may reasonably take — 

1 dreamed it, no doubt, for Lucy's own sake. 

The land that I saw is the scene of your life. 
Whether maiden, as now, or blissful as wife; 
The walks that were green, the fountains that play, 
The bowers that arched the long shining way, 
Are tokens, I trust, of the path that you stra}'. 

Or should it be wanting this side of the Eiver, 
And only be tiTie in the coming Forever; 
Oh then, far beyond the visions of dreaming. 
Beyond the delusive, the false and the seeming, 
May the skies that are bright o'er you ever be beaming. 

18 



THE MAID OF THE MOUNTAIN. 

On a mountain, 

By a fountain, 
In a deej^ ravine; 

Once a taper. 

In a vapor, 
Nightly could be -seen. 

Here once, 'twas said. 

There dAvelt a maid — 
A fairy, maiden queen, 

Who, up the rocks, 

Drove snowy flocks, 
When only stars were seen. 

When flushed the morn 

She blew a horn 
Of purest silver made. 

And swift as night 

Escapes the light 
Her bounding goats obeyed; 

And down the rocks 
The frisking flocks 
Fled to a cave's retreat, 

10 



THE MAID OF THE MOUNTAIN. 

And silent lay, 
The live-lono- day 
Secure from noon-day heat. 

For daily food, 

Both rich and good 
And ever at command; 

The udder's cream 

In many a stream, 
Ruslied through her snowy hand. 

When in the morn, 

The hunter's horn 
Among the hills is played; 

The dying strain 

Is caught again, 
In answer from the maid. 

A woodsman, young, 

Woo'd by her song, 
Once sought her lone retreat; 

He followed back 

The wild goats track 
To where the high hills meet. 

20 



THE MAID OF THE IMOUNTAIN. 

The Imiiter, brave, 

Saw in the cave 
A dim hght leading on; 

Far back, alone, 

The taper shone 
And glanced from stone to stone. 

The hght's faint glow 

He followed slow. 
Through hollow caverns chill; 

O'er many a steep 

"Wliere cascades leap, 
The woodsman wandered still. 

At last, forlorn. 

He grasped his horn, 
He blew a ringing blast; 

Wild echoes rolled 

Through depths untold, 
^Vnd hollow ^vindings vast: 

But soon aii'ain 
Was heard a strain, 
Far dowai the ^ast profound; 

21 



THE MAID OF THE IMOUNTAIN. 

An answeriiii^' tone 

Eepeated, " come; 

Follow the maiden's sound. 

Follow the light 
To chambers bright. 

Come to my mansions, come," 
xVnd as she sung, 
The soft light swung 

Down in a Hashing dome. 

Two pillars grand 

Clasped hand in hand 
Stand in that cave to day; 

The twain are one, 

Of flashing stone, 
AVedded for aye and aye. 

The lamp is dark, 

Its feeble spark 

For evermore has flown; 

. And on the lioor, 

These forms before, 
Lie flocks of fleecy stone. 

22 



BLO^^^NG BUBBLES. 

BLOWING BUBBLES. 

"Weary, on my conch reclining, 

Full of pain and discontent. 
Musing sore, I sat repining 

At a host of troubles sent. 

Gilded hopes, and fondly cherished. 

Doted on for many years, 
In a moment rudely perished. 

And I scarce could stay my tears. 

Meanwhile, at an open window. 
All unconscious of my troubles. 

Stood a group of merry children, 
Tossing out some shining bubbles. 

From then* dripping pipes they threw them 

On the bright and buoyant an-, 
Upward oft the current di'ew them, 

And they looked exceeduig faii^; 
But I saw each globe was broken. 

Often when it seemed most bright, 
Leaving not a trace or token 

In its fan- and transient flight. 

23 



BLOWING BUBBLES. 

But I felt cLich burstiiij^- Inibble, 
Sailing from the pipe of clay, 

Carried from my heart a trouble, 
Till the burden passed away. 

For I saw the hap23y children, 

Wept not when the bubbles burst, 

But threw others just as lii'aily, 
As they threw them at the first. 

AVhat, said I, are all my schemings, 
Fancied hopes and gilded joys, 

But the veriest noonday dreaniings, 
Light and triiling as these toys? 

When a child, I too, made bubbles. 
Then I used a pipe of clay; 

Now I make them of my troubles. 
Only ill a weaker way. 



24 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL. 



A DREAM OF YOUTH. 

My father tiU'cl the southern soil, 

But ichite hands reap'd his yeUow fields; 

He taught his boys, that hardj^ toil 
A vigorous, virtuous, manhood }delds. 

At early dawn, we spiightly sprang 
From sleep's refreshing, husky bed, 

When Chanticleer the summons rang 
From out the barn, or stooping shed. 

With blushing morn we climbed the hills, 
And brush'd from flowers the glitt'ring dcAv; 

We drank the purling mountain rills, 

Which wandered down our meadows through. 

Our eyes were bright, the ruddy glow 
Of health sat blooming on our cheek; 

We fear'd not winter's driving snow. 
Nor summer's rays of scorching heat. 

A brimmino- bowl of mush and milk 



25 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL. 

Supplied our evening's frugal board; 
Whilst "speck," and eggs, and beans, and tisli, 
With what the farmer's fields afford; 

Oft swell'd the steaming dinner plate 
With dainty viands tow'ring high; 

And as we chaps our dinner ate 
Dyspeptic souls might fear we'd die. 

But plow, and hoe, and ringing ax 

Supplied the need of bitter pills, 
No levy of the glutton's tax 

In shape of various doctor bills, 

Oppress'd the sturdy homestead low 
Beneath a weight of ciTishing debt: 

But work, pure air, a healthy How 
Of spirits, made the dinner "set." 

We boys and girls, a rustic band, 
To school were also taught to go. 

That 'neatli the teacher's training hand 
We countiy chaps might wisdom know. 

The Old-Field school-house, stooping low% 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL. 

Stood 'iieath some ancient, slielt'ring trees, 
Whose long, green branches, sweepmg, flow 
Like tresses in the summer's breeze. 

These switchy Hmbs, howe'er, alas! 

The master's hand would sometimes seize; 
And woe the naughty lad or lass 

Who chanced the master to displease. 

Down whistling o'er the urchin rude 

The splinter'd scourge would rattling fly, 

Till naughty boy or girl, subdued. 
Back to the seat would beilow^ing hie. 

For masters in those classic days 
Enforced their lessons with the rod; 

And scarce believed that wisdom's ways 
Without its vengence could be trod. 

In course of time, I grew a man; 

My furzy beard some longer grew: 
'Twas time I now should form some plan. 

And choose the course I sho.ild pursue. 

Revolving o'er the various schemes 

27 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL. 

W^hicli honest men to live devise, 
I oft built liio'li my brilliant dreams, 
Like airy castles, to the skies. 

I learninj;*' chose: and, lo! before 
My eyes the visioned speaker stood; 

His magic power assemblies sway'd, 
Lilve mighty storms the rocking wood. 

My home a future palace grew: 

Its stately pillars charmed my eyes; 

Its halls and parlors through and through. 
Were hung wdth richest tapestries. 

My wife ! — oh how my heart did glow ! 

My breast a mid tumult of bliss: 
Her form upon my vision rose 

Like some sweet dream of lovliness. 

Her eyes were bright as gems of dew 
AMiicli sparkle in the orient beam; 

Her checks were like the roses hue; 
Her form did like an angel's seem. 

Her lofty mind, with learning stored, 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL. 

With wit and humor sparkled rare; 
Or, <^Tave and earnest, sweetlv pourVl 
Her conversation on my ear. 

My numerous urcliins on the green 

Went bounding, laughing, free from care; 

Those sunny locks — bright eyes between — 
Streamed gaily in the summer's air. 

I thus resolved away from home 

To college classic halls I'd go; 
A bright new suit, — the borrow 'd sum 

Of forty dollars, burried low 

In leathern pockets, strong and sure, 
Lest plund'ring thief or robber bold, 

A brilliant fortune to secure, 

Should steal my purse of shining gold. 

A few new books — my highest bliss — 
Made my filled trunk a treasure rare: 

I sought a mother's parting kiss, 
A christian father's farewell prayer. 

In college halls I studied Greek, 



AUTOBIOGEAPHICAL. 



And turn VI the classic Latin jiage; 
In Clio hall I learned to speak 
In declamation from the stac'e. 



"ti' 



The mathematic problem too, 

With much ado, I learn'd to solve; 

And diagrams on black boards drew, 
The deep conclusions to evolve. 

The chemist, with much learned phrase. 
Of agents, acids salts declaim'd, 

And show'd the class, in various ways, 
Their mutual action, wondrous strange. 

He lectured too' in learned strains, 
Upon tlie human form divine; 

H(nv bones and muscks nerves and veins. 
In one grand system aU combine. 

We heard about the stars also, 

How they in wondrous systems roll, 

How central suns in aether glow, 
To poise, illume, and warm the whole. 



WHAT IS YOUR LIFE. 

We learn'd the structure of the earth, 
How slow deposits strata laid; 

How wondrous creatures, ere the birth 
Of Adam, o'er its surface stray'd 

With college wisdom loaded down. 
We touched at last the senior goal, 

And were with Bachelor honors crowned 
In a huge sheep-skin Latin scroll. 

My Bachelor honors, thus bestowed, 
I foimd I could not bear alone; 

To share my load, another vowed. 
But then my Bachelor-hood was gone. 



WHAT IS YOUE LIFE? 

It k even a vapor that appeaveth for a tittle wliiJeand then rnni.^hetti 
mm}/. James 4; 14. 

I asked the hooded clouds that monk lilie sat, 

Upon the benches of the distant hills, 

And dropt their constant beads in falling rain. 

3; 



LITTLE BROWN JUG. 

Say ye, before ye cliange and pass away; 
What is our mortal life? 
Just then the Moon, Virgin Innnaciilate, 
Hearing then* prayers, from out a parted cloud, 
Broke forth and shed upon their sombre heads 
A soft and radiant benediction. 
They bowed and parted as a crowd dismissed, 
But seemed to speak as if from cloven tongues 
These words — I heard them in the siglimg wind 
"Your life is like a vapor or a cloud, 
Ajipearing for a little while, and then. 
As we do now, it vanisheth away." 



THE LITTLE BROWN MONEY JUG. 

Of Jugs you have heard no little about, 
Some things very sad and some very fmmy; 
Of rum jugs and jail jugs and others, no doubt. 
But have you ere heard of a jug full of money? 

A little brown jug — 

A jug full of money? 

32 



THE IN^^SIBLE BEYOND. 

The former have made the heart very sad, 
But this will make it both gladsome and sunny 
The notion, we take it, is not very bad, 
To pour out the nun and put in the money, 

And have a brown jug — 

A jug full of money. 

The little brown jug has a musical ring, 

And heavy it feels as a hive full of honey; 

Tho' pity it seems, we will break the quaint thing; 

And count, as we sing, the musical money, 

And count, as we sing, 

The musical money. 



THE INVISIBLE BEYOND. 

In the twilight of the west, 

Far beyond earth s rugged rim. 

Fancy saw a land of rest. 

Where the vapory forms were drest 

In the sunset's golden vest — 

A realm of shadows dim. 



THY INVISIBLE BEYON. 

Down through g-orges hned with gold. 

On the cloudy cliffs above, 

And where crimsoned rivers rolled 

Many cloud-robed spirits strolled — 

Children of a happy fold — 

And all seemed leagued in love; 

Farther down tho distant skies, 
Where the .i^lory seemed to be. 
Fancy saw with tearful eyes 
Golden towers and temples rise; 
And, through trees of Paradise, 
A far-off* silent sea. 

Up and down the golden shore. 

Anchored in a radient bay, 

Ships, whose masts bright pennants bore, 

Kested on the crimson floor, 

Till the winds came wafting o'er 

And bore them all away. 

On them angel forms were seen 
Drifting toward the sunset's glow, 
Manv, anxious seemed to lean 



WITTENBURG COLLEGE SONG. 

Towards the sunset's dazzling slieen, 
O'er the silent waves between, 
As if they sailed too slow. 

Thus my faith through regions clear 
Sometimes sweeps its march away, 
Till the bright world seems so near, 
And the forms once cherished here 
Almost touch my lower sphere, 
iVnd Hood my path with day. 



wittenburCt college song. 

WRITTEN FOR THE CLASS OF '76. 

Ye Academic Halls, adieu; 

Ye quiet walks, ye sylvan shades, 

With saddened hearts we turn from you. 

Life's battle call our ears invades. 

Ye teachers of ovu' youtliful years; 
Patient and faithful, kind and true, 
With grateful and regretful tears 

33 



WITTENBURG COLLEGE SONG. 

And filial hearts, we say, adieu ! 

Ye comrades, classmates, students, all ! 
Sharers in Learning's toil and drill ! 
We turn from you at Duty's call; 
But claim you comrades, classmates, still. 

Ye citizens, the student's friends ! 
O warm has been your love and true ; 
Where e'er our future path-way wends, 
Our hearts will fondly turn to you. 

One hundred years, this year, ago, 
Thii'teen new states this side the sea, 
In God's great name, come weal or woe, 
Resolved to perish or be free. 

The old is past, we hail the new ; 
The second cycle of the free : 
As were our fathers, we'll l)e true 
To God, our Land, and Lil^erty. 



36 



^^^t SECo/v^ 




LOVE AT HOME 



TO MY HOME. 

Were there a tuneful note unsung, 
A fitting word of love unspoken, 
A long suspended harp unstrung. 
An alabastar box unbroken, 
Which might of praise an offering be 
To home, sweet home, I'd give it thee. 



MY BABY'S HAND. 



Precious, little, new-born lingers; 

As I hold you in my hand, 
Round my heart a strange spell lingers 

Which I scarce can understand. 

Mine is a commingled feeling; 

Sweet, but not without alloy; 
For there comes a sadness stealing 

From the fingers of my boy. 

Who shall guide this active wonder V 
AMio shall train this busy hand V 

Hold its many movements under 
Reason's firm and just command. 

40 



MY BABYS HAND. 

Will it prove a myriad blessmg. 
Scattering from an ample store, 

Lift the load of care oppressing 
God's despised and humble poor'? 

Will it Avijoe the tear of sorrow. 
Bind the heart and soothe its pain, 

Pointing to some bright to-morrow. 
Bid the sad heart hope again ? 

Or with Ishmaelitish mahce. 

Armed against its neighbor's hand 

Will it press a bitter chalice 
To the lips of all the land ? 

Will the traitor's bribe pollute it; 

Will it wear the murderers stain; 
Will it grasp the drunkard's wiiu cup. 

Pouring madness through the brain 

While I feel the witching beauty, 
In each dimple, curve and swell, 

Still an awful sense of duty 
Mingles with the joy I feel. 

41 



FAITH IN PAPA MAKES ME JUMP. 

And I pray; Dear Lord defend it, 
Take in thine this httle hand; 

Wisdom, skill and guidance lend it 
Lead it to the better land. 



FAITH IN PAPA MAKES ME JUMP. 

On the mantle over head 

Stands my little curly head; 

High above the stove he stands, 

Swinging back and forth his hands — 

'Fraid of falling? Not a speck, 

But the kisses on his neck, 

On his sunny neck of pearl, 

One for every sunny curl. 

I below, not more afraid, 

Watch each motion that is made. 

Ask the joUy little elf, 

He will answer for himself; 

"Darhng, are you not afraid?" 

"No," will shake the saucy head, 

42 



FAITH IN PAPA MAKES ME JUMP. 

And he'll tell you quick and plumi:), 
"Faith in papa makes me jump." 
Now he's leaning from the wall , 
Now my boy begins to fall, 
Half a fall and half a jump, 
Tumbling comes my baby lump. 
When he conies he shuts his eyes, 
Isn't that exceeding wiseV 
For the jump is one of faith, 
One, perhaj^s, of life or death, 
But the urchin has no fear, 
For he knows his papa's near, 
Fully trusts his out-stretched arm, 
Never dreams of hurt or harm. 
Father, when I'm growing old, 
iVnd my hands are weak and cold: 
When I'm leaning from the wall, 
Feeling too that I must faU; 
May I close my eyes in faith. 
Drop into thy arms at death, 
Caught upon thy faithful breast 
I shall safely, sweetly rest. 



WHAT IS AN OLD MAID 



What is an Old Maid? said Johnnie to Kate: 

It is an old girl that's married too late, 

A crotchety creature, unsocial, sedate: 

Said Kate, with a curl of scorn on her hp. 

With a glance in the glass and a toss of her head, 

The beautiful maid emphatically said. 

As over the carpet she swept with a skip; 

I know of a maid that is siu^e to be wed. 

Are you an Old Maid? said Johnoie to Aunt; 
A lady I am, unmarried, I grant, 
But not an old girl, all haggard and gaunt; 
Said Aunt, with a tear-drop moist'ning her eye; 
Your Auntie, dear Johnnie,, once might have been wed 
To a handsome young man, as every one said; 
But twixt an Old Maid and a bottle of "Old Eye," 
I solemnly chose to be an Old Maid. 

44 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 



I'M GEO WING OLD. 



All yes; I count it in my years, * 
I feel it in my very bones, 
I mark it in my dulling ears, 
And hear it in my feeble tones. 

And hide it as I slyly may, 
By using every shrewd disguise; 
I have it in the tell-tale gray. 
And in the cloud upon my eyes. 

Kind fiiends wiU often say, 'tis true, 

"How young you look; how hale and strong!" 

But thus they did not use to do, 

When I was sure that I was young. 



OUK CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

Let not the philosophic deem 

The nurseiy an ignoble theme; 

'Tis here oui* hfe is made, 

45 



OUR CHILDHOOD S HOME. 

And we are but the adult forms 
Of that which in the nursery warms 
Or shivers in the shade. 

" The child's the father of the man, " 
And each in nursery scenes began 

His father then to be; 
'Tis education forms the mind, 
And as the twig is first inclined 

So grows the adult tree. 

The man who numbers every star, 
Who mounts the commet's flaming car 

And sweeps the realms of space, 
Once at his mamma's eyebrows gazed, 
And saw, with wonder much amazed, 

A nose upon her face. 

He who the fate of Kingdoms sways, 
And whom admiring millions praise. 

Or tremble at his nod ; 
Once clapped his hands in childish glee. 
The monarch of his mother's knee, 

And thouG'ht it nothino- odd. 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

The man wlio list'ning senates charms, 
Whose logic all his foes disarms; 

Whose words like music swell; 
Once all his baby witts combined, 
To tell his smiling mother kind. 

What A and B would spell. 

Nor let the merr}' fingered maid, 
Whose voice, with organ sweetly plaj^ed. 

Sweeps through the vocal hall; 
Forbear to hear how mach is due 
To nurser}^ screams, ere jet she knew 

Wli}" she did scream at all. 

Here grow, who knows what future men, 
At least to partial parents ken. 

Bound for some high estate; 
What woman here, exceeding fair, 
Shall shine with wit and graces rare 

Among the wise and great. 

Here sleeps the nascent preacher boy, 
His tii'ed hands have droped the toy, 
^^Tiich busied him the day; 

47 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

How sweetly rests the little head 
Upon his couch or trundle bed, 
When wearied with his pla}^ ! 

No half begotten sermons strain 
The feeble fibers of his brain, 

In feverish, restless dreams; 
While Fanc}^ with her fairy pranks 
Fills up the long unfinished blanks 

With wild and tangled themes. 

No want of books, no empty pews, 
No tardy deacons with the blues 

Oppress his quiet breast; 
No debts from sheer compulsion made ; 
No promised sal'iy half unpaid 

Disturbs his nightly rest. 

Or there prehaps the " Doctor '" snores, 
His hand not yet fi'esh vigor pours 

Along the tides of life; 
Or with his leeches, powders, pills, 
The pain or patient shrewdly kills, 

And thus concludes the strife. 

48 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

Or there the candidate for law, 

His wits have not yet learned to draw 

The cobweb fibre fine; 
Or split the hairs which plainly show 
Which way the cHent's case must go 

To shift the "thine" to "mine. " 

Do not our adult bosoms swell, 

Where e'er we roam where e'er we dwell, 

Our childhood's life to trace V 
Does not the sage relax his brow, 
His faded cheek with gladness glow 

And soft his care-worn faco. 

As back he rolls the tide of life 
Away from manhood's weary strife, 

To childhood's sunny scenes: 
While memory mirrors all the past. 
And fi'om the view, with smiles o'er cast, 

A thousand comforts gleans ? 

Behold the man of four-score j^ears — 
ITe scarcely feels, or sees, or hears 
His life is but a dream; 

49 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

He dozes in liis old arm chair, 
Without a thought or conscious care — 
So vacant does he seem. 

If converse turn on current news, 
Such matters but his thoughts confuse, 

He feels on other themes: 
The names of men, of parties, all. 
On his oblivious senses fall 

As if they were but dreams. 

But ask him of the days of yore — 
Of times and things these days before 

When he w^as but a bo}- 
And now behold his wrinkled face 
Lit up again with youthful grace — 

His soul is filled with jo}^ 

The memory which could scarcely trace 
The lines of a familiar face — 

His children's names forgot. 
And vagTiely stared, with half blind eyes, 
And mutely stood, in blank suqDrise 

When they to him were brought; 

50 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

With rapid pinions backward Hies 
To sweeter scenes and fairer skies 

In childhood's sunny chme, 
And hke a mirror holds to view 
The forms of things most strictl}^ true, 

Unchanged by flight of time. 

His father's cottage on the hill — 

The stream below that turned the mill- 

The orchard and the road — 
The luscious pear the apple rare — 
The forest green, the lawns between. 

And all the neighbor-hood. 

The distant hills that rise around -^- 
The mountains which the vision bound, 

All rush upon his sight: 
And now, as in his youth before, 
He rambles o'er his hills once more — 

His fields and meadows bright. 

But fancy to the home-stead wends, 
He climbs the hill, the ste\)S ascends — 
The old man is at home; 



OUR CHILDHOODS HOME. 

The very cliairs, the ancient stove, 
The winding stair, the loft above 
Like visions o'er him come. 

The knife and fork with which he ate, 
His tiny spoon and figured plate. 

His pudding and his pie. 
Seem all like things of yesterday. 
As fresh and fair they glomng play 

Before his mental eye. 

Thus dozing, " Narrative old age " 
Goes on a pleasing pilgrimage 

Through youth's elysian fields; 
And as it dreams of years gone by, 
Calm grows the heart and bright the eye; 

Each scene a pleasure jdelds. 

Youth always for the future burns — 
Old age to childliood back returns. 

Thus twice we shift the scene. 
Yea thrice we pass the period through, 
In //opp, in fact and in rrview, 

Our life and death between. 

52 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

The nurs ry is our childliood's home 
Where romping boys and girls become 

A nation's flower and pride; 
' Tis here the mother's forming hand 
Must raise the virtues of the land 

And its true men provide. 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

O who can recount all the toils of the day, 
When evening comes on to caU from their play, 

The weary and tu-ed little throng? 
And who coidd retrace, when their labor is o'er, 
The myriad gay steps which have pattered the floor, 
' And chased the bright moments along '? 

The bachelor might think no labor was done. 
That all was but play and juvinal fun, 

And might from our memories be hm-led; 
But stop, ye vain dreamers, reflect for awhile, 
And learn that those children whom idlers ye style, 

In the nursery are making a world. 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

They're drilling- each day for the l)attle of hfe, 

And forming brave hearts for the fray and the strife, 

They're miniture women and men; 
Their 2:>rattle is shai^ing the thoughts of the age, 
Their swift Uttle feet convulsing hfe's stage. 

Though hidden as yet from its ken. 

No, children are icnti'cr.^ more busy than baes, 
They toil when suns glow, when winter wdnds freeze 

They go not unwearied to bed; 
They're building strong bodies by labor compacted, 
Unbribed by rewards, by no master exacted, 

The drops of their faces are shed. 

I love, when the father, with labor oppressed, 
Keturns to his home at evening to rest, 
And solace the cares of the day, 
To see, when are heard the sounds of his feet, 
The children rush forward their papa to greet, 
And prattle his troubles away. 

I love, when the w^ork of the nursery has ended, 
And evening calls in from then- labor suspended. 
The children all wearied with i^lay. 



AN EVENING WIIH THE CHILDREN. 

To think of a home where relUjioii presides, 
Where every fond heart in Jesus confides, 
And parents teach loved ones to pray. 

And when all the children, ere slumbers require. 
That weary, worn feet to their couches retire, 

And nature exhausted repair; 
Are gathered around their dear papa to stand, 
Where all the deeds of the nursery are scann'd, 

O then I should lilie to be there. 

And witness, though sad the childish transgression, 
If followed by candid, ingenuous confession, 

And the tear-drop starts from the eye; 
Let me witness the father to mercy inclined. 
Forgive the offender and solace his mind, 

And soften the penitent sigh. 

But if the transgressor indilferent appear, 
And heave not a sigh and shed not a tear, 

His error apparent deny; 
Let kindness, let terror his conscience awaken, 
And show him the ills of the course he has taken, 

Till penitence drops from his eye. 

55 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

And O when the error confessed is forgiven, 
Let not the 701111,^- heart in sadness be driven, 

To bed with its spirits depressed; 
But let the sweet kiss of affection sincere 
Remove from each cheek the j)enitent's tear, 

And let him be kindly caressed. 

And when all the faults of the day are disclosed. 
And every vain word and deed is exposed 

And fully and freely forgiven, 
Forget not the right and the good to approve, 
But praise every deed and feehng of love. 

And show them its likeness to heaven. 

I love when the children are nestled in bed, 
And up through the cover peers each little head, 

Ask mamma some story to tell: 
And oft have I seen a row of bright faces, 
As mamma some scene or character traces, 

All held as if bound by a spell. 

They hsten, whilst wonder then- breathing most hushes. 
How Moses was found in a basket of rushes, 
And away to a palace was taken; 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

How graciouH was God, when a matron was sought, 
That Moses' own mother to the princess was brought, 
To care for the baby forsaken. 

It may be the story of Joseph is told, 

How once, when his father was hoary and old, 

His brethren most cruel did sell him; 
How his coat of colors was crimsoned in blood. 
How Jacob in pale astonishment stood, 

As the brothers their falsehood did tell hmi. 

Perhaps she relates how once the dear Savioui', 
Disi^leased with Apostles' mistaken behavior, 

Took children and fondly caressed them; 
He placed his soft hands on each little head, 
" Suffer the children to approach me, " he said, 

Then fondly and kindly he blest them. 

Perhaps the fond mother the story expands, 
And hastens her children to far distant lands, 

And bids them the picture behold, 
And as the true story her roemoTy relates. 
Her heart and her mind her scenery creates. 

Whilst thus her sweet storv is told. 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHILDREN. 

Deal not, gentle mother, in falsehood and fiction, 
Wild tales of adventure and base contradiction, 

To startle thy children's attention; 
Remember that childhood undoubting' believes, 
Each word each story implicit receives, 

Which parents may carelessly mention. 

Remember these lies, for amusement designed, 
Sink down through the chambers of each little mind, 

And poison the fountains of feelmg; 
Remember that backward the stream shall return, 
And press to thy lips a draught that shall burn 

Thy tongue for its treacherous deahng. 

Away with the trash, the falsehood, the fiction, 
The tales of adventure and base cantradiction, 

Where fairies and ghosts are seen raviUg; 
Away with aU volumes of silly narration, 
All pictm*es grotesque, unnatural, misshapen. 

The tastes of thy children depraving. 

But mother, let truth, pure, simple, sublime. 
Whether uttered in prose, or warbled in rhyme, 
Be pictm-ed all living to view; 

S8 



AN EVENING WITH THE CHELDEEN. 

Its beauty intrinsic, its lustre so mild, 
Will smite the warm heart of thy innocent child 
With a love of the qood and the fr}ic. 

Let the birds of the aii* which sow not, nor reap, 
Which God, our Father, dotli watchiidly keep, 

Their food and shelter provide; 
Teach thy little ones, as they list the soft lays, 
Which the feathery tribes pour forth in his praise, 

Lilie them in God to confide. 

Let the ant, forcasting the storms that shall blow. 
O'er her house long burried in deep drifted snow, 

Concealing the soft summer grain; 
Instruct, that though God for his creatares provide. 
Their labor and prudence nuist not bo denied 

The boiinty bestowed to obtain. 

And even the worm, as he feeds on the leaves, 

And from then- coarse texture most wondrously weaves 

A cerement of siUi for his bed: 
When winter is o'er, aU glorious with wings, 
From out his soft grave a butterfly springs. 

As if he were raised fi-om the dead. 



TO A MAID AT SEVEN. 

May tell how tlie dead, when coffined and laid 

Deep in the cold ground, 'neath the myrtle tree shade, 

To sleep in their cerement of clay, 
ShaU spring from their beds, aU glorious with wings, 
When through the rent sky the last trumpet rings, 

And the heavens arc rolling away. 



TO A MAID AT SEVEN. 

This day thy seventh year is ended, 

Its moments with the past are blended — 

A week of infant years; 
How like a sweet and pleasant dream. 
Does thy lirst week of summers seem, 

How fresh thy life appears ! 

But e'en for thee, life's sunny scene 

Hath had some darkening shades between, 

'Twas not all merry May: 
I've seen true sorrow dim thine eyes, 
I've pitying hushed thy infant cries 

And wiped thy tears away. 



to'a^maid at seven. 

With patient smiles and much ado, 
Thy mother taught thy hands to sew 

Some patches in a seam, 
Till last, a j)ictured quilt was made, 
Of almost ever}' hue and shade — 

From black to white between. 

To us, depraved with sin and guilt, 
Life, like thy parti-colored quilt. 

Is made of light and shade; 
'Twould not be well if all were bright, 
Nor well if all were dark as night, 

Of both our life is made. 

Let God the varied pattern plan. 
Seek thou his love and grace to scan 

In every changing hue; 
When Judgment shall thy life unroll, 
Then shalt thou, glancing at the whole. 

Pronounce it good and true. 



61 



SWEET SIXTEEN. 

If my fond heart, ere I'm aware, 
Incline the judgment of my head, 
So when I thee, sweet one, compare 
With other daughters also fair. 
In spite of all my watchful care, 
My judgment be misled; 

I beg of thee, and others too, 
My more impartial friends, 
Ye will not too severely view 
The picture partial lingers drew, 
And ask if every tint be true 
Where light with shadow blends. 

I wish that I could truly paint, 
Not color, form, or face, 
But life — thy Hfe — not of a saint, 
Nor yet grotesquely queer or quaint. 
But where the colors fair or faint, 
Thy subtle self should trace. 

62 



SWEET SIXTEEN. 

That thou in face and form art fail', 

Hast love-bewitching eyes, 

What color are thy lips and hair, 

I will not say, I do not care, 

But what thy thoughts and feelmgs are 

Above all else I prize. 

I greatly love thy glowing cheek, 
But more thy honest heart; 
Thy gentle spirit, chaste and meek, 
To me more sweetly far can speak 
Than all the ti-illing tones that break, 
Where goodness has no part. 
Sometimes thou seem est rather gay, 
Too thoughtless I opine, 
Too fond of miiih and girlish play, 
That this is wrong I will not say; 
I know mth thee 'tis merry May, 
And fields and flowers are fine. 

I would not wreath thy girlish l)row 
With sober Autumn's hue; 
Go be a happ}" maiden now, 

63 



SWEET SIXTEEN. 

Too soon the cold, rough whids will blow, 
Too soon will come the winter's ^ncw. 
And change this golden view. 

I only wish the flowers of spring, 
When leaves and blossoms fall, 
AVhen merry birds no longer sing, 
Or beat the air with wanton wing, 
May leave for thee some better thing 
Than song and beauty, all. 

If thou wilt cast some golden grain 
Upon the blooming sod; 
It will return to thee again, 
Kewarding all thy care and pain 
When birds and flowers cannot remain, 
A harvest gift of God. 

Let study store thy youthful mind 
With gems more bright than gold; 
Let wisdom on thy temj)les bind 
The fairest jewels of the mind; 
With these around thy forehead tmned, 
Thy face shall ne'er grow old 

«4 



SOBER TWENTY. • 

What though thy youthful strenght may fail, 
Thy eye grow dim with years; 
Thy rosy cheek sink wan and pale, 
And life seem like a thrice-told tale; 
Though walking through the shadowy^ vale 
Thy heart shall know no fears. 



SOBER TWENTY. 



Onward still the stream is flowing — 
Onward still the years are going — 
Deeper, stronger grows Life's river, 
Hasting towards the great Forever. 

Round the slope of twenty summers 
Sings the stream its meriy murmurs; 
Swifter, stronger in its flowing 
For each slope that marks its going. 

In a cloud-like skitf, my daughter 
Floats upon the magic water; 
Wafted by the softest gales, 
Hiding in the lifted sails. 

G5 



SOBER TWENTY. 

Half in smiles and half in tears — 
Hoping strong, with mingled fears, 
Sweeps my eye the changeful river, 
Bearing towards the great Forever. 

How I mark the light craft wander 
Towards the distant, unknown yonder, 
Where the skies and waters blue 
Meet and close tlie distant view. 

Here, the open sun-beams shimmer. 
There the sun and shadows glimmer. 
Now, she glides thro' flowerj^ meadows, 
Now, beneath the dense grove's shadows. 

Onward sweeps the meriy sailor, 
Sliouting back to all who hail her; 
O how bright is Life's glad river — 
Might it thus How on forever. 

When the stream was but a rill. 
Singing down Life's sunny hill, 
Wlien the baby hands were tender, 
And the oars were weak and slender. 



SOBER T^VENTY. 

Tlieu I rowed the infant sleeper 
Till she woke in waters deeper — 
Till the tiny arm grew stronger, 
And the keel itself seemed longer. 

When the arm and heai-t grew bolder, 
When the head and hand were older, 
Then I slow, my hand withdrew 
And let her guide the light canoe. 

But my heaii still rows beside her, 
And my hands are stretched to guide her; 
Never shall my fond care falter 
Till I sink beneath the water. 

Tender loves she father, mother, 
Tender toward each cherished brother; 
Makes each heavy burden lighter 
And each dismal hour grow brighter. 

Often when mj- heart is weary, 
And the days are sad and dreary, 
And ni}" soul is sore oppress'd, 
And the pillow jields no rest. 



SOBER TWENTY. 

Then some kind and thoughtful token, 
Or some fittmg promise spoken, 
Oft has ralHed hope declining, 
Silenced grief and vain repining. 

Oftener still my soul was strengthened, 
And its shrunken vision lengthened. 
And the curtained clouds uplifted, 
Or with golden sun-beams rifted. 

When I heard her sweet voice render, 
Some forgotten promise, tender. 
Sing some hope-inspiring psalm 
Has my soul grown strong and calm. 

Thus we close one score of years — 
Thus the pa^t to day appears — 
Thus between thy natal day, 
And the present, seems the way. 

What shall be thy future years, 
To no mortal eye appears; 
Eyes alone which all things scan. 
See the fickle Hfe of man. 

G8 



OUR LITTLE ONES. 

God who leads the winding flood, 
Buoys thy bark and bears its load, 
Points its path from fount to sea, 
Whatsoe'er its windings be. 

Watch thy craft as if no one 
Guided it but thee alone. 
Pray thy God thy guide to be, 
As none guided it but he. 



QUE LITTLE ONES. 

Five httle faces in a row, 

Five curly heads as white as snow, 
A flight of steps, from crown to crown, 

O'er which my heart bounds up and down. 

But O, too large a step is seen 

The first and second heads between ! 

One little, snowy head is gone, 
It sleeps beneath a distant stone. 



TO EDDIE. 

Before ine yet the row shall stand, 
Clasped each alternate hand in hand; 

The broken steps shall yet grow even, 
The lost one takes its place in heaven. 



TO EDDIE. 



OUR LITTLE TWO YEAR OLD. 

Where, darling, may thy mansion be, 
Where is thy realm of rest ? 
So dim are all my thoughts of thee, 
That when my holden eyes would see 
Thy spirit from thy body free. 
They all seem dreams, at best. 

I only saw thy bosom heave, 

And shorter grow thy breath; 

I only saw the sweet light leave 

Those eyes wliich never more shall grieve, 

And felt thy j)ulseless heart receive 

The fatal stroke of death. 



TO EDDIE. 

Then all I had of thee, dear cliild ! 
In dreamless slumbers laid, 
Was thy sweet face, so pure and mild, 
But O, it neither wept nor smiled ! 
And when I called in anguish wild, 
Thy Ups no answer made. 

Thou art not here, I have not thee, 
My once dear, smUing boy, 
But this is all my eyes can see. 
What e'er thy other self may be, 
Is not, as 3^et, revealed to me, 
Thy sphere, nor thy employ. 

Art thou some unsubstantial dream, 
Some light and fleeting breath, 
More swift, in flight, than solar beam. 
When thro' the cloud, or on the stream 
It gilds its shinning path ? 

' Tis thus my fancy strains its wing 

Thy viewless path to trace; 

' Tis thu3 my stricken heart wovUd bring 

n 



TO EDDIE. 

Some iniage of that heavenly thmg, 
Which wanders vvliere the angels sing, 
To metes of time and space. 

I cover with my lifted hand, 
These tearful eyes of sense ; 
Nor will I ask to understand 
The mysteries of the spmt land ; 
No light or skill can I command 
To pierce those shadows dense. 

I only ask what Jesus saith, — 
The Light, the Truth, the Way;— 
Here will I rest my trembling faith; 
He gilds for me the darkest path 
With hope that full assurance hath 
Of immortahty. 



SHALL WE HAVE A CHKISTMAS TREE? 

Shall we Jiave a Chiistmas tree 

Hung with candies, fruit and toys ? 

Shall we merry, merry be, 

With our darling girls and boys? 

Shall we say old Santa Claus, 

Or the merry myth, Kriss Kringle, 

Comes with bells, and sleighs, and toys, 
With a Cliristmas jingle, jingle ? 

Yes, let's have the Cliristmas tree. 
Full of candies, fruits and toys; 

Let us merry, merry be 

With our httle girls and boys. 

Christmas comes but once a year — 
And the years, O, how they fly ! 

Let us greet it with good cheer, 
Greet it as it hastens by. 



SHALL WE HAVE A CHRISTMAS TREE.'' 

Stretch the line fi'om chair to chaii-, 
Range the stockings in a row; 

You will note each Httle pair 
Longer than a year ago. 

Many households, here and there, 
When the tender work is done, 

Shall observe some little pair 
From the family row is gone. 

Still, set up the Christmas tree, 
Let not home be left forlorn : 

Death may now no terror be. 
Since the infant Christ is born. 

E'en the fragrant evergreen 
May inspii'e the joy of faith; 

As a type of life unseen, 
Tell of triumph over death. 

If the home is glad and bright, 
And the gifts, an ample store, 

Fill each heart with sweet dehglit, 
Let us not forget the poor. 

74 



MY MOTHERS PICTURE. 

Ah ! the poor, in whose sad homes 
All is cold and bare and chill, 

Where no ja^ladsome Christmas comes, 
Where no gifts the stockings fill. 

Christ may still be in the stall, 
In some cot or lowly shed, 

Where the sick for succor call, 
Where the hungry cry for bread. 

Succoj- them this Cluistmas day; 

When the judgment time shall be, 
You will hear the Master say, 

"■ Ye have done it unto me." 



MY MOTHEE'S PICTUEE. 

My mother was old when she sat for her pictm-e, 
Her body was bowed, her tresses were grey, 
She wore a white kerchief and ii'on rimmed glasses — 
Her costume, though quaint, was the stylo of the day 



MY MOTHERS PICTURE. 

And there slie still sits, tho' years have gone by, 
And borne to the dust her visible clay, 
But the sheen of her hair, and the light of her eye, 
And the smile on her hp, pass never away. 

The canvas is old and faded, 'tis true; 
The pigments are darkened and tarnished by age. 
But yet from the wall, her spirit breaks through, 
And hves like a thought on a time honored page. 

Thus stiU the old painting looks down from the waU; 
Its sweetness and brightness increasing with years; 
It greets me whenever I enter the hall, 
And oftei I answer with blessings and tears. 

The dead, like their pictures, do never grow old, 
We tliink of them still, as when they were here, 
Though passed from our sight and far from our hold, 
We say they are ours, and feel they are near. 



76 



SILVEK WEDDING. 

TO REV. M. L. KUHNS AND WIFE. 

Cherished pastor, christian brother, 
Husband, father, faithful friend. 
Thee we greet with wife and mother, 
In our greeting both we blend. 
As together in one prayer. 
Often do your names ascend. 

On this gladsome day we hail you, 
Kindred, friends and children, aU, 
Happy are our hearts to greet you 
In this silver wedding call, 
May your silver turn to diamond 
Ere your evening shadows fall. 

When your trusting hands were phghted, 
Five and twenty years agone, 
Thus for sun and stonn united, 

77 






SILVER WEDDING OF REV. M. L. KUHNS AND WIFE. 

Twas the leafy month of June ; 

Through the changing months and seasons, 

Changeless, ye have journeyed on. 

Many leaves and flowers have withered 
In the blighting autumn air; 
Icy fingers some have gathered 
From your household arbor fair, 
And your trembling hps have tasted 
Of the cup so many share. 

Still the June month has its flowers, 
Still the cap of life is sweet, 
And to cheer your lingering hours 
When they tread with tardy feet, 
You have blooming sons and daughters 
To adorn the household yet. 

Though no wish or word be spoken 
Which may tell the love we feel, 
Let each silent, silver token 
Something of that love reveal, 
And though silent, and though absent, 
Let it plead our memory still. 



SILVER WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. DANIEL EPPLEY. 

Now may he who at the altar 
Joined your pHghted souls in one, 
Hold you when your footsteps falter 
And still gently lead you on — 
Lead you parents, lead you children, 
Where the " little ones " are gone. 



SILVEK WEDDING 

OF MR. AND MRS. DANIEL EPPLEY. 

I know not if my humble rhymes 
Will ring well with the silver chimes 

Which greet your ears to-day — 
I know not if the lines I sing 
Will have the true metalic ring : 

I only wish thej^ may. 

I, like those poor apostles old, 
Have neither silver gifts nor gold, 
And hence can none impart; 

79 



SILVER WEDDING OF MR. AND MR3. DANIEL EPPLEY. 

I draw upon another store, 
In which I feel I am not poor — 
The treasures of my heart. 

Anticipating us to-day, 

Some kindly genius passed this way 

Invisibly bright: 
And through your raven locks of hair 
She slipt her silvery fingers fair, 

And left them snowy white. 

Above all gifts and treasures rare. 
Above all silver presents fair, 

I prize the locks of snow; 
To me no royal diadems, 
Though burdened with earth's richest gems, 

With half the splendor glow. 

I wish, dear friends, you may behold 
Your silver wedding turn to gold — 

Your gold to diamond tarn; 
And when at last Life's sun hangs low, 
May skies above and hills below 

In golden splendor burn. 



AN ALBUM DEDICATION. 

TO lOLE. 

This book is Friendship's dainty hall, 
Each pearly page a parlor fair, 
The golden border is the waU, 
And every line, a vacant chair. 

I, on the threshold, take my stand 
And open wide the waiting door; 
To comers, all, I give my hand, 
And bid them welcome, o'er and o'er. 



^KKt THl}^^ 




HEART THOUGHTS, 



THE HOLY CHHiD JESUS. 

^,^L>^y:^:^^=^>^:)' 

Savioiu' thou wast once a child, 
Holy, harmless, undefiled, 
Hmnble was thy human bii'th, 
When thou earnest down to earth, 

Thou didst walk with sinful men, 
But without a spot or stain; 
Tempted, thou didst never yield — 
Be thy grace and strength our shield ! 

Since on tender childhood's head, 
Once thy holy hands were laid. 
All the children of the race 
Occupy a nobler place. 

" Suffer them to come to me, " 
Draws our parent hearts to thee; 
With the children Lord we come; 
For us all, thy arms have room. 

85 



FRATERNITy. 



CHARITY INVOKED. 

Charity, visit me, 
Grace of the noble three; 
My spii'it welcomes thee — 
Come, holy love ! 

Faith, Hope, these give us peace: 
Thy power shall still increase, 
When these in sight shall cease - 
Thou reign'st above. 



FEATERNITY. 

''Behold how good and how pleamnt it is for brethren to dwell 
.ofjether in Unity. " Ps., cxxiii : 1. 

Earth has few charms so rich and rare, 
Or scenes so precious and so fair, 
As brethren who agree; 
How good, how pleasant thus to dwell, 

86 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

Where kindred bosoms swell 

With mutual sympathy; 

'Tis like the precious ointment shed 

On Aaron's consecrated head, 

Which ran down o'er his beard; 

And in a sweet and odorous stream, 

Down to liis garments' utmost seam, 

Itself a robe appeared; 

'Tis like the morning's fragrant dew, 

On Hermon's sunht summit, blue, 

Or Zion's sacred hill; 

For there the Lord his blessing sends, 

And heaven in bright effulgence bends, 

With life the scene to fill. 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

•JOHN v., 1 — 9. 

Five porches hung around Bethesda's pool, 

Where sick and wan a mass of suff'rers lay, 
Upon the waveless fountain's bosom cool, 

87 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

They fixed their haggard eyes from day to day, 
Naught broke the form of cloud or bending trees, 

As mirrored on the pool they floatmg lay, 
Save when by chance a soft and thii'sty breeze 

Would curhng o'er its placid surface play. 
Months passed — and still a thousand bending heads 

Saw imaged fourth their hollow sunken eyes, 
As down they gazed from overhanging beds, 

To see, j^erchance, the troubled waters rise; 
For once a year a pitying angel came, 

As round the realm he beat his guardian flight, 
And moved by cries of blind, and halt, and lame, 

He wept a tear upon its bosom bright. 
When lo ! a sudden boiling quickly seized 

The sleeping spuit of the conscious wave, 
And gave the mystic pool a balm that eased 

The first, who stepping in, their hmbs should lave. 
At once the crawling, halting, suff 'ring tide 

Of waiting wretches, for the water strove ; 
Some, helpless, for theii' friends most piteous cried; 

Some headlong threw themselves from beds above, 
The waters touched, and straight the healthful flow 



THE POOL or BETHESDA. 

Of life coiu'sed througli their withered Umbs again. 
The cold dull eye, the pallid cheek would glow. 

And hearts oppressed with grief forgot then pain; 
But whilst some joyful tcjuched the healing tide, 

And lost amid the waves their heavy chains; 
Others, alas! forlorn, desponding died, 

And m the Graces Bethesda healed their pains. 
One sad, retired, and meekly suff'ring form. 

Far back by cold, unfeeling hands was thrown, 
Where year by year, mid heat, and cold, and storm, 

He friendless, waited, wept, and prayed alone. 
TJiirf;/ and eif/Jit long years infirm he lay. 

Long sought Bethesda's often troubled tide. 
And saw the mystic waters wash away 

Some fell disease from sutf'rers by his side; 
But ere he, crawling to the fountain's shore. 

Could drag inhrm his languid length along. 
Some other waiting feet would press before, 

And leave him helpless mid the tangled throng. 
The years passed slow along, and one by one. 

His former friends forsook his loathsome cot, 
Wearied of cost and care, left him alone, 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

And e'en at last his very name for^^ot. 
His mother, in his childhood's helj^less years. 

Had brought and laid him by Bethesda's side, 
And daily sitting, wiped away his tears, 

And for her charge, her daily task she plied. 
Then, when at length the longed for day appeared, 

And angel hands Bethesda's waters moved, 
Grasjiing her child, she quick the fountain neared. 

But others first its healing virtues proved. 
Again, and still again, from year to year, 

The faithful spirit stirred the lucid wave. 
And they who quickly touch the waters near, 

Are healed of whatsoe'er disease they have : 
But still a strangely sad, severe decree. 

Debarred from health the mother's fated child. 
He seemed alone a lielphss wretch to be. 

Whilst health restored, on otlurs frequent snnkd. 
Yet God the mother's daily prayers had heard, 

Though long the gracious answer seemed delayed: 
Another fount, by Calvary's tortures stirred, 

Was destined to afford the suff'rer aid. 
Yet long before the world's Bethesda streamed 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

O'er Calvary's steep, a sacred crimson tide, 
And long before its healing flood had gleamed 

Beside the sheep-gate pool, the mother died. 
Earth's lirst, and last^ and earth's most constant Mend, 

A mother, fond, untiring, now was gone, 
And thus, the only stay that heaven would lend, 

Had fled, and he indeed was left alone. 
The angel came, the waters moved again, 

Again he saw befriended sutr'rcrs healed; 
But still he wjiited, cried, and wept in vain, 

No heart would feel, no hand assistance yield. 
Youth passed away, and manhood came and fled. 

And age, inflrni ffom sickness and from years. 
Stole on, and still upon his squalid bed 

His days w.rj passed in groans, his nights in tears. 
At parting eve one day, when rosy clouds 

Like ships of gold sailed down the sun-lit west. 
And changing, seemed like hills of flame, and crowds 

Of men, and giant steeds in crimson drest; 
When heaven was calm, and Sharon's scented gales 

Played soft upon Bethesda's blushing pool, 
And from the hill, and down the winding vales 

91 



THE POOL or BETHESDA. 

The air stole forth the heated earth to cool; 
There came from Olive's mount, descending slow, 

A weary, strange, and solitary man. 
He crossed the brook in Siloa's vale below, 

And up Moriah's steep his laboring march began ; 
And as he nearer comes, the suff'rer's eye 

Marks a soft radiance on his pensive face, 
As yet uncertain if the evening sky, 

Or soul ^vithin imparts the heavenly grace. 
But now beside the friendless cot he stands, 

His eyes, his face with mildest radiance glow — 
He speaks — the suffrer lifts his wasted hands, 

And prays the stranger's heart an alms l^a.-tow. 
" Wilt thou be whole ? " the gentle voice demands, 

"Long hast thou lain in this sad case, I see, 
I mark thy sunken eye, thy withered hands; 

Wilt thou from thine infirmity be free ? ' ' 
" I have no one, " the weeping sult'rer cries, 

" These limbs of mine in yonder pool to lave, 
And when I would from this low cot arise. 

Some other touches first the troubled wave." 
" Arise, take up thy bed and vxdk, for lo ! 

92 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

My sovereign word shall make thy members whole, 
Arise, I am thy soul's Bethesda too, 

All nature owns my absolute control." 
At once his ankle bones their strength receive, 

He joyful grasi)S the stranger's proffered hands, 
Withm his soul perplexed emotions heave, 

And leaping up he by his Saviour stands. 
But whilst with bounding step and joyful heart, 

He moves the wonder of the multitude, 
Jesus unseen, conveys himself apart, 

^Vhilst thoasands round the scene of healing stood, 
Amazed, he to the house of God repairs. 

Bearing, as bid, the burden of his bed. 
At once to offer lieaven his grateful prayers, 

And learn where his mysterious friend had tied. 
And as he kneeled upon the temple Hoor, 

Thanked God, and anxious prayed to know his friend, 
Jesus approached and bade him sin no more. 

Lest heaven on him a direr curse should send ; 
Weeping with joj, he kissed the Saviour's feet, 

And ask and heard the great Redeemer's name. 
And going forth his snff 'ring friends to greet, 

93 



THE i^OOL OF liET^HESDA. 

He published far and near the Saviour's fame. 
Jesus, thou art the same forever more, 

Thou art the soul's Bethesda still to-day, 
Thou canst the wounded heal — our sight restore, 

And drive the broken spirit's grief away. 
I too was sick, my head, my heart was faint, 

My soul was foul with leprous spots of sin. 
No troubled pool could ease my soul's complaint, 

The dire disease lay deep ni}^ heart within. 
I too, for many years had helpless lain. 

And sought, and vainly sought, myself to cure. 
The more I strove to heal my inward pain. 

The less my heart its evils could endure; 
Till once, my Saviour, thou didst pass this way, 

And saw'st me helpless, friendless and alone. 
Thou saw'st my grief as sad I weeping lay. 

And heardst my broken spirit's heavy moan. 
When thou didst point me to thy wounded side. 

Thy hands, thy feet with crael piercings riven, 
From whence had flowed thy heart's pure crimsoned tide. 

94 



SCARdfiLY SAVED. 

For me, for all mankind so freely given. 
I looked, and lo, my sin-sick soul was healed, 

M}^ heart its rending anguish felt no more, 
I felt my health restored, my pardon sealed, 

And Heaven all through my soul its gladness pour. 



SCARCELY SAVED. 

1 PETER rv : 18. 

" Scarcely Saved ! " then almost lost 
Heaven's pathway nearly missed, 
From an angry ocean tossed. 
Saved on fragments of the ship; 
O, thou Ruler of the wave, 
Can'st Thou onl}^, scarcely save ? 

Must we, like a burning brand. 
Snatched by Thine Almighty hand 
From the ashes of the lost — 

95 



f^CARCELY SAVED. 

As was Lot from Sodom's coast — 
Scarce escape Thy dreadful ire, 
Only saved, as if "by fire?'' 

Heaven wills the soul to save, 

Christ his blood a ransom gave, 
Freely is the spirit given. 
Gently wooing us to heaven; 

Without mone}^, without price, 

May we enter Paradise. 

Are not Wisdom's pleasant waj's, 
Paved with flowers and trod with ease 
All our galling fetters broke. 
Is not Christ's an easy yoke V 
Is it hard then, life t' achieve. 
Since 'tis only "Look and live? " 

Yes, poor mortal, blind, depraved. 
Hardly is the sinner saved; 

Hardly will he lend his car 

E'e]i of life itself to hear. 
Foes without, and foes within. 
Make it hard his soul to win. 

90 



SCARCELY SAVED. 

If the Spirit softly pleads, 

Scarce the still small voice he heeds — 
If the rod in judgment burns, — 
Th' ingrate of a rebel turns — 

Wooes the voice, or falls the rod, 

Still the heart defies its God — 

Gilded forms of pleasing sin 

Spread arouLd, liis heart to win. 
Sweet and fiowery seems the road, 
Leading downward fi'om his God — 

Syren voices all along 

Lure him with then- magic song. 

Should some arrow, dipt in blood. 

From the quiver of his God — 
Break the fascinating spell, 
Making hard the way to hell, 

Oft some guilty balm is found 

Quick to stanch the flowing wound. 

Is the great Physician near. 
Dropping on th' awakened ear, 

The welcome; "Come, sick soul to me, 

97 



SCARCELY SAVfeD. 

I'll heal thee, make thy spirit free ? " 
Still 'tis hard, but to believe — 
Hard to only " Look and live." 

Hard to count the world but dross, — 

Hard to bear the Saviour s cross, 
Hard to tread the narrow road, 
Leading upward to his God — ■ 

Hard to bear the world's dread frown, 

Only looking for the crown. 

Where ten thousand wil}' foes 

Every upw^ard step oppose — 
Foes without and foes within — 
Hard it is the fight to win; 

O, ye friends of Christ, be brave. 

Hard it is the soul to save. 



JOY IN HEAVEN. 

LUKE XV : 7. 

Joy in heaven! what else but jo}^ 
Could angels' harps and tongues employ 

So near the throne above V 
Can they who see their Father's face, 
Whose glory fills the heavenly place, 

Want themes their hearts to move? 

Joy in heaven! since yonder spheres 
Have measui'ed times revolving years 

A moment has not flown, 
But angels with their spirit lays, 
Have lifted high Jehovah's praise. 

And hjanned his glorious throne. 

When bursting from primeval night, 
Myriads of starry systems bright, 

Their glittering march began, 
The " Morning Sfars," with measured song, 
Cheered the bright hosts their paths along, 

As through the heavens they ran. 

99 



JOY IN HEAVEN. 

And when on rapid wings tlie}^ lly, 
Amid the wonders of the sky, 

And hear the chiming spheres 
As round the throne of God they roll, 
They catch fi'om heaven's remotest pole 

Sweet echoes on their ears. 

But what upon this atom ball, 
Obscured, accursed by Adam's fall, 

A den of rebels vile; 
What here, could win from angels pure. 
Whose minds no evil can endure, 

A sweet, approving smile? 

Can they from starr}^ homes look down, 
Where rests Jehovah's angry frown, 

With aught of pure delight ? 
No doubt, our glittering mountains fair, 
Our fields, and floods, and ocean-air, 

Might please an angel's sight. 

No doubt, a seraph's flaming eye, 
Might in our groves or fields espy 
Some sweet, sequestered bowser, 

100 



JOY IN HEAVEN. 

Where murmuring brook and vernal lay. 
Might e'en for angels charm away 
A calm and pensive hour. 

But when a soul with sin oppressed 
And hands upon his contrite breast, 

To Heaven for mercy cries; 
When tears of true repentance flow. 
And guilty souls their biu-den know. 

When pleading prayers arise, 

And when from clouds of coming wrath, 
From Sinai's dreaded doom of death, 

The guilty rebel flees; 
When to the cross his soul repairs, 
And through the rising storm of fears, 

His bleeding Saviour sees. 

Tis then is heard the joyful sound, 
" The dead's ahve, the lost is found, " 

Mid heaven's enraptured throng; 
'Tis then their joyfid harps rebound, — 
" The dead's alive, the lost is found — " 

Millions the strains prolong. 

101 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 

" And when he, wat< come near, he hehe/d the city, aiul u-^pt 
0}:er if Luke, xix ; 41. 

See Jesus on Mount Olive s brow ! 
Applauding thousands round him bow, 

And loud hosannahs sin<^; 
With garments strewn and waving piilms, 
With loud acclaim and pealing psalms, 

They hail him Zion's king. 

A gorgeous scene before him lies, 

Of mountains mingling with the skies. 

Of fields and foliage green ; 
But fairest, sweetest in his sight, 
Bathed in the mellow morning light, 

Jerusalem is seen. 

On Mount Moriah's peak below. 
The temple, lilie a hill of snow, — 
The wonder of all lands, — 

102 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 

With roof of gold and turrets bright, 
With flashing dome and pillars white, 
Conspicuously stands. 

Oblivioas of the joyful crowd, 

Of waving palms and praises loud. 

He scans the coming years; 
The Master's bosom heaves with groans. 
His lips o'erflow with wailing tones, 

His eyes with pitying tears. 

Alas ! to his prophetic eye, 

Far down the peaceful, morning sky 

A coming cloud is seen: 
On his omniscient soul it throws 
A shadow dark of future woes, 

Which blackens all between. 

To him, beyond the mountains green, 
The serried flash of war is seen, 

The glare of armor bright; 
He hears the legions' measured tread. 
The neighing of the warrior's steed, 

The shout, the cry, the fright. 

103 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 

Ai'ound the city's walls below, 
Tlie close besieging lionians throw 

Embankments strong and high: 
The taint of death is in the air, 
And to the carcass, from afar, 

The swift winged eagles fly. 

Through crimson streets and twilight dim, 
With sunken eyes and visage grim. 

Gaunt Famine daily walks; 
And rampant Faction, fierce and red. 
With gory hands and fiery tead, 

O'er bleeding corpses stallvs. 

His captive kindred, led in chains. 

Are dragged, lilie beasts, from smoking plains 

To lands beyond the sea; 
And there in marts, for sordid gold, 
The seed of Abraham is sold. 

And doomed to slavery. 

In every land he sees them roam, 
Without a priest, without a home, 
Afflicted and accursed. 

104 



THE BIBLE AND THE KEFOEMATION. 

Till every breeze from every sky, 
Is burdened with a groan or sigh, 
From wanderers dispersed. 

And once again his pity burns, 
And all within his sad soul yearns 

To change their horrid lot. 
Now while they hail him Zion's king. 
His brooding love, with sheltering win^ 

Would shield; but they would not. 



THE BIBLE AND THE KEFOEMATION. 

O Christ, our Sovereign king, 
To Thee oiu* praise we bring- 
On this glad day; 
Thou o'er Thy church dost reign, 
Thy righteous cause maintain 
Hear us we pray I 

105 



THE BIBLE AND THE KEFOEMATION. 

When once thy people groaned 
'Neath Anti-christ enthroned, 

Thy courts within; 
Who, hke a rival God, 
Thy sacred precincts trod; 
Ruled nations by his rod, — 

"The man of sin!" 

Great God, thou didst inspire 
A monk with holy lire 

To plead for thee ! 
He seized the Spirit's sword, — 
The hammer of the Word, 
And in the name of God 

Smote valiantly. 

Great Luther's mighty stroke 
The papal sceptre broke, 

And made us free. 
The Reformation day 
Has rolled the night away — 
Let happy millions say, 
■'Great Jubilee. "' 



106 



LUTHER AND VVxVSHINGTON. 

THE KEFOKMATION AND CENTENNIAL, 

Ah when a zone of golden beams 

Fulls li-oiii tlie level sun 
Acrcjss the sea and gilds its waves, 

Makes skies and waters one; 
Thrusts golden fingers through the foam 

Of every crested wave. 
And lays on each a fairer crown 

Than Monarchs ever gave : 

So, from the Sun of Righteousness, 

Across the ages dim, 
There falls a belt of golden beams 

Uniting earth with Him; 
And all events and sainted men, 

Which in this blazon lie. 
Grow great with time and shine afar, 
. And cannot fade or die. 

107 



LUTHER AND WASHINGTON. 

Bald Sinai's peak and Horeb's top, 

iVnd Calvary, fairer far, 
On jeweled summits catch the light, 

Within this golden bar; 
And lowly men of rustic garb, 

From field or tent or fold, 
If in its track, grow bright with light 

More sj^lendid far than gold. 

Tlius Abraham and all the tribes 

Of his illustrous line, 
Bards, prophets, kings, and humbler names, 

With this effulgence shine: 
While Genius, Learning, Prowess bold. 

Not gilded by this light, 
Grow dim with age and fade away. 

And sink in final night. 

As from some tall historic mount, 

In these Centennial days. 
Let's backward look to other times, 

Through ^Vutumn's golden hiize: 



LUTHER AMD WASHINGTON. 

On orand October's final day; 

We reverentlj' will stand, 
And send oar thoughts adown the past, 

To roam from land to land. 

Our own fair land, a nearer scene, — 

A scene not wholly bright. 
Shines thro' a hundred ^^ears, sublime 

In Freedom's glorious light; 
Altho' the battle's stiffling smoke 

Hung o'er it now and then. 
Yet when 'twas past a fairer sky 

O'er spread it still again. 

We hear our sires in Congress halls, 

Engaged in high debate, 
They forge the chains in mighty heat, 

Which bind in one the State ; 
Each untried thought they in the fire 

And on the anvil la}', 
And smite with giant blows the bars 

To test their strength and stay, 

109 



LUTHEE AND WASHINGTON. 

Tiiey guard the Stat(; to make it free 

With equal rij:^'hteous law; 
Twixt LiceiiBo loose and Freedom strong, 

The nice distinction draw; 
But tliose precincts the soul within, 

They ne'er presumptuous trod. 
But left the conscience grandly free. 

Unfettered witli its God. 

The f-tream of light which long ago 

Broke o'er Judean hills, 
Falls thro' their halls, a golden Hood, 

And exoYj chamber fills; 
It casts a bright unfading glow 

On every honored brow; 
For on such legislative men 

It never shone till now. 

But as our thoughts roam down these jeari 

We cross the mighty sea; 
In other lands strong voices plead 

The cause of Libert}' ; 



LUTHER AND WARIIINGTC^N. 

A hammer smites a pareliment scroll 

Against a chapel door; 
Its echo rolls in tliunder tones 

In Freedom's cannon's roar. 

Great Luther seems a A\\ashington ; 

His hammer's mighty stroke, 
Which from the necks of millions smote 

The papal tyrant's yoke, 
Explodes for us each deadl}' shell. 

And fires each loyal gun 
Which sweeps our land of royal slaves, 

Redeemed by AVashington. 

And in his theses lay the spark, 

Half smothered yet, 'tis true. 
Which in his hand in after years 

A mighty flambeau grew; 
This touching- others, spread the flame 

And passed from liand to hand, 
Till vivid belts of holy fire 

Begirt the sea and land. 



LUTHER AND WASHINGTON. 

Those links of Freedom and of Law 

Wers forged in Luther's hand, 
\A^hich our old patriot fathers snatched. 

Yet glowino- from the sand: 
He cast them singly from the forge, 

On lands beyond the sea, 
And other hands have wove of them 

The guards of Liberty. 

Were there no Keformation day. 

The darkened world to cheer, 
There were no Independence day, 

And no Centennial year: 
No Luther, then no Washington; 

No theses, then no State 
Upon these shores, in justice strong, 

Sublimely free and great. 

The cloister where the Bible lay, 

The monastery cell; 
The ever-famous chapel door 

Where Luther's hammer fell, 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

And Luther's self, and all the way 
In which he fearless trod, 

Lay m the blazon's central glow 
Which marks the path of God, 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

All through the golden, bright, November day. 
The hearse-lilie wind had been among the leaves; 
It kissed them as it loosed them from their spray, 
And laid them on the mossy turf away, 
Beneath the wind-swayed tops of mourning trees. 

And now beyond the golden sun-set bars, 
The dying day has calmly sunk to rest; 
The funeral torches of the distant stars, 
Led in their march by crimson-visaged Mars, 
Pass down the tinted high-way of the west. 



AUTUMN LEA\'ES. 

I lean my head to catch the cool nio-ht-air, 

The perfume of its forest-scented breath; 

I feel its lingers slipping thro' my hair, 

As if to brush awaj^ the feverish care 

Which comes to me from Nature's realm of death. 

I think of mine, some sweetl}' budding leaves. 
Untouched by Autumn's icy chill of death, 
Which faded in the sj^ring-time's balmy breeze. 
Wrenched from the boughs of bleeding parent-trees, 
By an inexorable, fell disease. 
And laid away the tear-bathed sod beneath. 

But far beyond the golden sun-set bars; 
Beyond the frosts, the fading light of even; 
Bej^ond the torches of the setting stars, 
Led in their march by crimson-visaged Mars, 
They live translated in the light (^f heaven. 



SEA GROVE. 

AVliere Jersey opes her sand}^ palm, 
And lays lier linger in the sea; 
Where waves collide in storm and calm, 
And plaj' an endless duet psalm; 
The basso chimes 
Are Ocean's rhj^mes: 

The softer airs 
Are Delaware's; 
Here Sea Grove City is to be. 

Sea Grove is as a bridal ring, 
Cape May's the linger in the sea; 
The snow-white cots wdiicli on it spring, 
Are facets in Love's offering; 
The first and best, 
Among the rest, 

Is pure saphire — 
The church's spire ^ — 
This is the fairest far to me. 



THE SNOW FLAKE. 

Here % the healthful saline airs 
On ceaseless wings, from shores unseen; 
Here Health the wasted form repairs, 
And here the burden of our cares 

Drops in the spra}^, 
And floats away, 

Out from the beach, 
Bej'ond our reach, 
And seems as if it ne'er had been. 



THE SNOW FLAKE. 

Come, prett}^ snow Hake ! come rest in my hand; 
I've singled you soaring so long and so high, 
Wearily watching, I patiently stand, 
To see you sail down from your home in the sky. 

At last I have caught you — you're gone, x>retty thing ! 
Your crj^stals are broken, so sorry I am, 
As soon as I felt the touch of your wing, 
An icy cold tear was left in my palm. 

116 



THE SNOW FLAKE. 

If on the white ground, instead of my pahn, 
Your wing had ahghted, with others as pure, 
And rested with kindred ones, quiet and cahn, 
Your crystals, unbroken, might longer endure : 

Or were you made sad to quit your bright home, 
To drop on a hand, so sinful and vile; 
Hence shunned me so long, prefermg to roam 
Through sky and mid air, disporting awhile? 

One other, still purer and brighter, did come 

From regions still higher and holier far. 

Whose crystals were crushed on the cross and the tomb, 

Were crushed in the fall, but hell felt the jar. 

But often 'tis thus with other bright things, 
Which gladden and dazzle my eyes for awhile : 
I scarcely can notice the touch of their wing-s, 
Till into sad tears has melted each smile. 



^ lf1 



117 



W^ 



SECOND THOUGHT ON, I'M GEO WING OLD. 

And cim I f>Towiiig old, in truth; 
My sense less keen, my step less free V 
StiU I retain my real youtli; 
I am not old and wiU not be. 

'Tis not in years to make me old, 
Though time may wear my strength away: 
May make the vital currents cold 
And turn myjyouthl'ul locks to gray: 

Yet long as Hope in me is strong, 
And Faith looks on with undim'ed eyes; 
As long as Love and Zeal press on 
To reach the mark and win the prize: 

Yea, while to me, from springs unseen, 
The tide of life Hows piu'e and strong. 
My leaf, unwithered, shall be green, 
I must and always shall be young. 



I 



118 



ELIJAH AT HOEEB. 

The aged eagle molts his plumes, 
And from his eyrie upward springs, 
The strength and speed of youth resumes 
iVnd bathes in elouds his new-Heged wings; 

So shall the soul that waits on God, 
AVith freshened strength its path pursue ; 
Mount up on wings to his abode, 
And evermore its youth renew. 



ELIJxVH AT HOEEB. 

1 KINGS XIX : 8-18. 

See the tempest rend the mountain; 

Darkness tills the sky; 
Hear the rumbling earthquake passing, 

Is Jehovah nigh ? 

119 



ELIJAH AT HOREB. 

Yes, the wild wind is his herald, 

Making straight his path, 
And the quaking of the mountain 

Harbingers his wrath. 

Now the heavens glow with tire; 

Horeb is in flame: 
Sure Jehovah's drawing nigher — 

Awful is his name. 

But not in the storm or thunder. 

Wrapt not in the flame, 
Conies Elijah's God to Horeb 

Vengeance to proclaim. 

But a soft and gentle whisper, 

Filling earth and air, 
Tells the awe-struck, trembling prophet 

That the Lord is there. 

And he, folded in his mantle, 

At the open cave, 
Hears a searching, whispering Spirit 

Bidding him be brave. 

120 



THE BIBLE AND LIBEB'JA. 

This is the Reformation day, 

The wide world's Jubilee; 
The Word, long l^ound, is loosed again 

To make the nations free; 
It takes the wings of every wind; 

It floats on every Hood; 
It tells to men of every tongue 

The wondrous works of God. 

It sails a chart in Pilgrini shq^s 

To lands beyond the sea; 
It is their guide, their polar star, 

The pilot of the free ; 
It rears their altars, builds the State 

Beyond the tyrant s rod, 
Where, unalarmed and undismayed, 

Men freely worship God. 



MORNING BIRDS. 

The Bible at the lire-side 

And in the closet read; 
In childhood's ears, at marriage feasts, 

And burials of the dead; 
In church, in school, in prison cell, 

In legislative hall; 
Lives in our life, rules in our laws. 

The heart and pulse of all. 



MORNING BIRDS. 

One timid note 

Is sent afloat 
From yonder hill-top tree, remote : 

The dewy air 

Vibrates afar 
Beneath the palpitating jar. 

I haste to rise. 
In glad surprise, 
As Morning ope's her dewy eyes. 



MORNING BIIIDS. 

To sec unrolled, 
The cloudy gold, 
Beyond what poets ever told. 

I wheel my chair 

To catch the air 
Which comes from field and forest faii; 

To hear the strain 

And sweet refrain 
The birds sing ever and again. 

Some sentry bird 

At first is heard. 
As if it were a watchman's word; 

A single trill 

Steals from the hill, 
Then, for a moment, all is still. 

An answering bird, 

Ere long is heard, 
And he is followed by a third, 

And then ere long. 

The morning song. 
Swells to a chorus, loud and strong. 



MORNING BIRDS. 

From bush and brake, 
From hill and lake, 

All in the general song- partake; 
Unhelped by art, 
Each sings his pai-t. 

And finds his music in his heart. 

Each velvet throat 
Pours forth its note 

Upon the trembling air to iior.t; 
It makes no pause — 
Seeks no applause — 

B\it from its soul its music draws. 

The airs which sway 

Each leafy spray, 
Seem dancing as the}' float away; 

The joyful June, 

To sultry noon, 
('laps all its leafy hands in tune. 

O ma}'^ my heart, 
Unskilled in art, 
In tliis glad anthem bear its part ! 



THE DAY IS DONE 



Nor silent be, 
\Mieii bird and tree 
Can till the air with melody. 



THE DAY LS DONE. 

The day is done — 

Once more the sun 
Hatli through the sky his journey ran; 

The live-long da}", 

His flaming ray 
Hath kept primeval Night at bay. 

But looking back, 

The sky is black. 
And Night comes trailing on liis track: 

And in this chase 

She'll gain the race. 
And throw her l)lack scarf on ]]is face. 



THE DAY IS DONE. 

For sages sa^', 

Some time, some way, 
The Night shall overtake the day; 

The solar flame 

Sink whence it came, 
\\"here light and darkness are the same. 

So let it be, — 

If Heaven decree, 
That time shall bring no night to me : 

Altho' a sleep 

Ere then may steep 
My sense in shadows, dark and deep. 

Yet from mine eye 

These shades shall fly 
Beneath a fairer, brighter sky: 

A purer light 

Shall greet my sight 
Wlien stars and suns are lost in night. 




Pago. 

A Dream and its Interpretation . _ _ - 16 

An Album Dedication - - - - - - 81 

An Evening witli the Ckildren _ _ _ _ 53 

Autobiographical - - - - - - -25 

Autumn Leaves .___-- 113 

Blowing Bubbles - - - - - - - 23 

Charity Invoked _.__-- 8G 

Christ Weeping Over Jerusalem - - - - - 102 

Dedication ( Home. )------ 39 



Dreamings of the Waking Heart 







Elijah at Horeb ...--- 119 

Faith in Papa Makes Me Jump - - - - - 42 

Fraternity - - - - - - - 86 

I'm Growing Old - - - - - - - 45 

Joy in Heaven ___--- 99 
Luther and Washington ------ 107 

Morning Birds ------- 122 

My Baby's Hand ------- 40 

My Mother's Picture ------ 75 

Our Childhood's Home - - - - - - 45 

Our Little Ones ------ 69 

Scarcely Saved - - - - - - -95 

S^a Grove ------- 115 

Second Thought on, "I'm Growing Old" - - - - 118 



INDEX. 

Page. 
Shall We Have a Christmas Tree .' - - - - 73 

Silver Wedding of Rev. L. M. Kiihiis - - - - 77 

Silver Wedding of Daniel Epploy - _ _ - 79 

Soher Twenty - - - .._ _ -G5 

Sweet Sixteen ---_-._ (i2 

The Bible and Liberty - - - - - - 121 

The Bible and the Reformation . _ . . 105 

The Day is Done - - - - - - - 125 

The Holy Child Jesus --...- 85 

The Invisible Beyond - - - - - - 33 

The Little Brown Money Jug ----- 32 

The Maid of the Mountain . . . _ - 10 

The Pool of Bethesda ------ 87 

The Snow Flake - - - - - - - IKi 

To a Maid at Seven ------ (50 

To Eddie -------- 7<> 

What is an Old Maid ? - - - - - - 44 

What is Your Life ? - - - - - - 31 

Wittenherg College Sonc,- ----- 35 



...yjljjAJJY OF CONGRESS 

016 256 119 4 " t 



